The 8th Grade Dance - For Lola.

At the end of 8th grade, we had a big dance called... the 8th Grade Dance. It was full of much awkwardness and pre-teen-ness and fancy hair. I'd never had my hair done before and I told the hairdresser that I wanted a french braid. She curled up her lip in disgust and said that there was no way that I was getting a french braid- that I at least had to have the cooler, upside-down french braid with curls on the top of my head. (Incidentially, this is the same hairdresser who did my hair for my sister Alison's wedding and who made the same identical face when I told her I just wanted a sleek ponytail. Which I did not relent on that time.)
Anyway, integral to this dance, as with all dances through the eyes of a female, was finding the most fabulous dress. I found a white lacy deal, knee length and with cap sleeves. Upon arriving at school the next day, I came to find that one of my friends (who shall go nameless) had the bought the exact same dress. I, in my friend solidarity, thought, "Cool! We'll be like twins!" She did not think this. She got REAL mad. She asked me what day I got it and, when it turned out we had bought them on the same day, asked me WHAT TIME. Seriously?! Are you being serious here?! She was. We've lost touch...
So the day of the dance arrives. I'm upside-down french braided up with my lacy number on and surrounded by my girl friends because I only spoke to two boys prior to high school and them only because they were on Quiz Bowl with me. (My current coolness was carefully cultivated...) So we arrive at the dance and everyone is standing around being... awkward... and there is a large crowd around the punch bowl table because it's easier to pull off looking cool when you're DOING something than if you're just leaning against the cafeteria wall. I don't actually remember what I did all during the dance other than gossip with my friends, but I do know that we also spent some time near the punch bowl because I CLEARLY remember what happened AFTER the dance.
When the night finally ended (*sigh*) all of us girls went to our friend Erin's house for a SLEEP OVER!!! We had a crap-ton of sleepovers in middle school and high school. So, it comes out that there was rumor going around that the punch was SPIKED. My friends, being normal, laughed at this and forgot about it. I, on the other hand, began mulling this over in my brain. My thoughts followed some train close to this: "What if it really WAS spiked? I drank the punch. I've never drank alcohol. (You get a better feel for my emotions if you start raising your voice to get more and more hysterical as my wonderings continue.) I might have just drank alcohol! I might be DRUNK! I think I'm DRUNK and I don't even know it!!!!! THIS IS TERRIBLE!!!!!"
I'm feeling sick now. Not, like, drunk sick (clearly) but the sick I feel when my hypochondriac-ism kicks in and I feel all dizzy and queasy in my stomach. So, I tell my friends, "You guys, what if the punch really was spiked and I'm drunk and I don't even know it?" And what do my friends do? WHAT DO THEY DO? They LAUGH! They make fun of me for the rest of the night. And for the next 15 years, thus far.

THE END.